Mishi returned from her memories of the day she had left Tay to the mercy of all the social sharks. She had fled this house with a confused heart so dramatically that she still remembered every step she took before getting out of the neighborhood and, shaken, calling Rohn to tell him of her decision to leave her husband.
Although it had happened nearly three years ago, everything still felt very vivid even now. She absentmindedly pulled a pie out of the oven, seized by the uneasy feeling that the days that followed had been nothing but a dream.
She looked around the quiet kitchen and realized she had been wandering through memories like this since yesterday. She couldn’t remember when Tay had left that morning, nor when she had rolled out the dough. Yet everything was done. With lingering unease she stepped into the bedroom, where she found Sheena in a wooden crib carved with flowers. Though she couldn’t recall tending to her today, Sheena showed no sign of lacking anything. Relieved, Mishi sat down and gently stroked Sheena’s content, sleeping little face. She didn’t know why the past refused to leave her alone right now, but she believed there was a higher reason she had to go through it again and rearrange it. As if life were being tidied up. As if a new period were arriving. And with such a miracle beneath her palm, Mishi had no doubt that it truly was.
…
At that moment, Mishi heard a light knock. Glancing at the clock, she marveled at the precision with which Mario had arrived. It unsettled her somewhat how little grasp she had of her last few hours. On her way to the hall, she checked the pie again, adjusted her hair, and swept a few bits of apple under the bench with her sock before opening the door to Mario with a broad, warm smile.
But the instant she opened it, the smile froze in surprise. Mario stood before her in a black leather outfit in which, at his age, he looked as if he had just come from a wild bikers’ reunion after thirty years. Maybe forty.
“Hi, little mouse, surprised?” Mario blurted out enthusiastically. “I bought a new motorcycle—there it is, a beauty,” he pointed toward the overgrown gate, where the bike was only partly visible through the blooming akebia. “I hadn’t ridden since they replaced my hip, and that was a huge mistake. I spent the whole morning flying around, and it’s amazing! I can’t get enough of it!”
“Well…” Mishi swallowed, “amazing. I was actually expecting you to bring me a living beauty. Where is she?”
“Yeeah… I had one. But it didn’t quite work out. She sent me to hell this morning,” Mario scratched the back of his neck, flashing Mishi a supposedly innocent smile she knew all too well. “But hey… I’m here, aren’t you glad?”
“Ah, so it didn’t work out. Again,” Mishi crossed her arms sternly. “What happened?”
“Wheeell… you know how it is. Women. One day they tell you you’re enough just as you are, the next they want to pin you on like a brooch and show you off to the whole world.”
“So she wanted you to acknowledge her publicly, and you told her to go to hell,” Mishi summed up the more realistic version, frowning at him like a naughty child. “And that’s why the motorcycle? Really? Mario, you’re fifty already.”
“I’m still sixteen! Don’t ruin it! And let me inside already—I can smell that you baked something. At least I can have seconds,” he waved her off, brimming with enthusiasm and shuffling about with the charm of a playful boy. “So… are you going to unblock the door or not?”
Mishi narrowed her eyes and grumbled, “Only because I’m going to the kitchen to find something to hit you with.”